


The God of Thunder

by Kaamos (reckless_love)



Series: The ruinous path down into the Void [2]
Category: TOLKIEN J. R. R. - Works & Related Fandoms, The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: M/M, Music, Science, Teaching, angbang, kiss
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-13
Updated: 2018-04-13
Packaged: 2019-04-22 10:12:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,320
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14306472
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/reckless_love/pseuds/Kaamos
Summary: Melkor teaches Mairon how to dominate the elements.





	The God of Thunder

**Author's Note:**

> I post this little story but I'm quite sure I'm going to regret it immensely.  
> Anyway, I love thunderstorms and I love teaching Melkor. Join the things together...and here we go.  
> I've mixed words from music and science.  
> Holy hell what I did?  
> Sorry for my Eng.

 

> "The shadow of my purpose lies upon Arda, and all that is in it bends slowly and surely to my will"  
>  _Narn i Hîn Húrin_
> 
>  

When the wind picks up on the cliff-top walk, Mairon glances up at the blackened cloud that dominates the sky above and feels a rush of excitement. 

The air grows heavy and the humidity presses down, suffocating. The scent of rain is dark, almost heady. A stillness falls all over the Isle, so sinister and menacing that it doesn’t seem anymore a divine abode. In that silence comes a low and distant crackle of thunder: for a moment, everything stops. Even the wind holds its breath.  
After a few experimental drops the clouds unleash a torrent of water, driven by the wind strong enough to push bushes flatter and scatter their tender green petals in the air. The waves of the Great Lake surrounding Almaren, once placid and calm, become titans, smashing into the sandstone below, and the water, that has been so dark under the gloomy sky, is now white with foam and spray. Between crashing waves, howling wind and lashing of rain on his head, Mairon cannot hear above the din and his vision is merely a few steps. 

“Teach me!”, he says with a feeling of wild amazement, without even looking at Him, his Master towering on his side.

On contrary, the Dark Vala does glance at him with a well-pleased grin, satisfied for his Maia’s insatiable hunger for knowledge. 

“Teach me how to unbalance all the elements”, he urges, unable to curb his inquiring mind a moment longer. 

“And now I say unto you,”, Melkor speaks with a quiet grave tone, “quit thinking the way they taught you to think, or you will come to nought. Slowly but deeply they had indoctrinated you into their own way of thinking”. 

 “Teach me”, Mairon repeats, pondering his words and looking directly in His eyes proudly, “the secret to combine powers together, bending them to my own will”. 

“And so it shall be”, He murmurs, admiring the greedy flames in his eyes. Then, He closes the fingers into a fist, twisting the wrist gracefully, and the tempest simply dissolves. 

“Watch and learn”, He says, “for I will teach you everything you need to know”. 

“A great heat, high temperatures on the ground”, Melkor’s right hand moves flat and palm down in a slow movement, parallel to the earth, fingers outstretched, “Cumuli are thus formed by powerful upward air currents, in which the water vapor condenses”. As the Vala speaks, the sky quickly becomes once again darker and lower with ominous black clouds. 

“Heat is released, allowing air masses to rise further”, the wind now picks up, howling, crying, warning, baying like a mad wolf into the night, “as soon as the cloud reaches the upper parts of the sky, water drops freeze.  As a result, the cloud cools down, giving rise to a downward current”, His right hand moves in into a downward motion, “at this point, descending currents carry the drops of water downwards”.  
Soon the rain falls, slow to start, submissive to the Master’s will, splattering the coast haphazardly. Then it falls as if cascading like a waterfall from the heavens, following the right tempo of Melkor’s mind. 

“The ascending and descending movement of the currents are also the source of differentiated electrical charges, through lightning and thunder naturally they are grounded”, an upward movement of His left hand prepares for the downbeat: once the movement is over, the first crack of lightening rents the air and within seconds the rolling boom of the thunder reverberates overhead. Melkor shapes the sound and the tempest obeys, giving Him back the sound character He requires. 

Abruptly Melkor fists again his hand and the thunderstorm calms down. 

“The hands are there to describe a certain space of sound and to shape elements into your will”, He says, “at some point, you won’t be needing your hands no more when you master your will completely”. 

Mairon focuses on his index finger, while generating electricity, then on the other finger tips, extending the energy he feels to the whole hand, gathering enough ponderments so that the energy feels heavy, but without forcing himself tough over exceed. Then, he moves his hand like Melkor did, keeping it in parallel with the soil; and the earth under him obeys: it’s a matter of seconds and dark clouds gather above, looming over them, while a violent unforgiving wind races through the trees and the clatter of loose branches can be heard from sides. Melkor silently smiles, for Mairon’s fury is something that he still doesn't know of himself, and it’s intense, methodically disordered and destructive. 

There is a sudden downpour and through the rain drenches air comes the first long low rumbles of thunder. 

“Don’t speed up the tempo”, Melkor scolds, “control the elements by your will. The left hand, having turned over rhythmic duties to the right, serves a far more elastic purpose: control your right hand”. Melkor moves to stand behind the Maia and takes his right hand in His. 

Mairon can't deny a thrill at feeling Him behind him, he can't deny a thrill as their fingers intertwine together and his eyes unconsciously move across His face. 

 “The clarity of your mind comes from the clarity of your will”, Melkor says looking into his eyes. Mairon senses again another thrill, and it’s perceived and understood for what it is: a power exchange between his body and his Master’s.  
Mairon’s flat hand, palm downward, calls for smoothness, and the sky obeys. 

 “There’s a crack in everything”, Melkor explains, “don’t let the light in”. 

Loud chords of his will, Mairon cups his hand upward: lightning comes, like a serpent of brilliant light sent to bite the earth it appears. Then the sky shakes with the cry of the thunder, forking silently to the unsuspecting ground before them - the thunderous boom always calling its warning too late. A downward cupped hand calls for a sustained line, and torrents of sounds are produced. Pounding martial chords and more volume is required: every drop of rain splashes down without mercy, and the rain dances like watery sprites. 

The Vala hums in satisfaction; and when the storm is at its worst, He pushes a lock of white hair behind his ear, before softly angling his face towards His by his chin. Mairon’s gaze is drawn to His perfectly shaped lips. He stands tiptoe, eliminating the distance separating them. Melkor clasps his hand, drawing it to His chest, and takes him into His arms, using all the strength of His body to be gentle, and lets His lips touch his so lightly that Mairon can hardly feel it. 

Above their heads, there’s that thunder which seems to snap the air, as if the heavens are going to split apart. 

“I like that,” Mairon whispers, “when you keep me in your arms, Master”. An instant before The Vala takes control of him again, leaning forward and capturing his mouth once more, kissing him fully: with fierceness He possesses him, with one hand holding the back of his head and the other grabbing him by the waist to pull him closer to Him. Like so He deepens the kiss, His tongue plundering the sweetness of his mouth at will, but eventually leaving him flustered and at the mercy of his awakening sensuality. 

“Take me with you, Master, in Utumno”, Mairon’s voice a soft plead, lost in ripples of love, “I don’t belong here anymore”. 

“In due time”, Melkor replies, “I require you over here and soon you’ll understand why”. 

Mairon sinks into that kiss, and drinks from His fëa in preparation for the time without Him to come. And when Melkor finally pulls away, his throat feels filled with unspoken words, the fëa meaningless and the hröa dissatisfied. 

Melkor vanishes and Mairon’s fingers cling to Nothing.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading ❤!


End file.
